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The stranger was waiting for them when they got home from the store, casually seated at the kitchen table with a gun held loosely in a heavily tattooed hand.
Simon froze at the sight of it, a visceral sort of fear making his throat close up before he could even think about screaming, coiling around him like a vice. Cool, calculating eyes met his gaze.
The front door closed somewhere behind Simon, signaling John's return with the mystery bag he had refused to let him peek into, and Simon's body spasmed — to run, to fight? — but ultimately stayed rooted to the spot.
“I was thinking, Si, maybe we could…” John said, his voice coming closer and closer and the stranger at the table straightened in anticipation. Simon saw the fingers tighten around the gun and he could already see it rise in his mind, hear the deafening gunshots and smell the blood, see the—the body lie motionless on the floor.
Just like mum.
Just like Tommy.
“No!” An aborted sound broke through Simon's lips, but the stranger was already standing up and leveling the gun at them with his finger twitching towards the trigger.
Another startled cry caught in Simon’s throat when he was suddenly tugged backwards and behind John's back, away from the direct line of fire. The grip on his arm was near bruising, but he didn't care as he snatched a fistful of John's shirt to hold on to.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing, Morris?” John snarled.
“They were going to court-martial me!” the stranger, Morris, replied.
“And your next brilliant idea is to break into the house of your former CO to threaten his family with a gun?”
Simon didn't think he had ever heard John that mad. He sounded furious. Dangerous.
“They kicked me out because of you!” Morris shouted and Simon flinched, pressing himself as close to John as he could while cautiously peeking past him at the man. “I lost everything!”
“Get out of my house, Sergeant. Now – before you do something you're going to regret.”
“No!” Morris took a step forward, both of his hands coming up to hold the gun now. There was a wild look in his eyes that scared Simon more than anything. “I came here to make you pay, and I won't leave until I'm satisfied!
“Now move! Down into the basement!”
“Dad?” Simon whimpered. He didn’t want to go into the basement with Morris, there was no good reason for him to take them there. The only reason Simon could think of was to make it harder for them to escape – or to make it harder for the gunshots to be heard.
John shook his head, his voice cold and hard in a way that made it clear he wasn’t asking when he spoke, “Let my son go. He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
"No, dad, please—!"
“Shut up!” Morris snapped. “Neither of you is going anywhere – we all know the boy would go straight to the cops if I let him leave!”
He made a sharp motion towards the basement door with the gun. "Now move, unless you need me to give you a better incentive?"
John growled deep in his throat but after a moment or two of intense eye contact, he slowly moved to comply while making sure to keep his body firmly between Simon and Morris. "You do realise you won't get away with this, don't you? This is not something you can come back from, threatening and holding an innocent child hostage."
“I don’t give a shit about the kid, Captain, I’m only here for you – and I’ll be long gone before anyone figures out I’m the one they should be after.”
“No! You can’t kill him!” Simon cried out, stumbling behind John as they neared the basement door. “Please!”
“Shh, Simon, let me handle this, alright?” John hushed him, his voice softer to reassure him but still tense, and tears welled in Simon’s eyes. “It’ll be okay.”
“No, dad, you can’t–you can’t leave me!”
Not like everyone else.
The door to the basement opened with a creak when John pushed it open behind them and a breathless sob formed in Simon’s throat. He couldn’t watch anyone else die. He couldn’t. He shook his head with a whimper, and for the first time since they’d entered the house, John angled his body slightly towards him to look at him while still keeping him covered.
“It’ll be alright, kiddo, but I need you to stay calm, okay?” John told him quietly. “Let me do all the talking and stay behind my back.”
“But–”
“Enough of this!” Morris growled and John turned towards him, but suddenly he let out a pained grunt and staggered back into Simon who instinctively reached out to the wall for support – except the basement door was open now and his hand only met air.
John shouted his name right as Simon's eyes widened in horror and he lost his balance. He twisted around to try to grab a hold of the bannister, but his momentum was too much and he struck the stairs shoulder first. There was no air in his lungs, no way to stop his fall as he continued to tumble down the wooden steps, a scream trapped in his throat when blinding hot pain exploded near his shoulder.
He could only wheeze when he hit the bottom, stunned from pain with tears streaming down his face as he struggled to draw in any air.
“Simon!”
Gentle hands rolled him onto his back, but that alone was enough to tear a broken scream from him. He couldn't move his left arm, even the slightest shift was pure agony both on his shoulder and forearm.
“D–Dad!”
“Shh, it'll be okay,” John reassured him, cupping the side of his face. “I'm so sorry, kiddo. Did you hit your head? Can you tell me what hurts?”
Simon whimpered, trying to valiantly hold back sobs because they only made it hurt more. “M–my arm.”
John's gaze shifted down to his arms with a worried frown on his face, but he had no time to do anything before Morris appeared behind him once again. Simon's breath hitched.
“Get him up and move away from the stairs.”
“Morris, you son of a bitch, he's hurt and needs medical attention!” John snapped, throwing a glare at the man. “He's just a child for God's sake!”
“If you don't want to make it worse for him, you'll do as I say and move the fuck back!” Morris told him, jerking the gun in Simon's direction. “You went to the brass. It's because of you that they started investigating me so you know damn well what they suspect I did – and just because I don't give a shit about your kid doesn't mean I won't hurt him if I think that'll get you to do as I fucking tell you to!”
“Dad?” Simon's bottom lip trembled and his vision was blurry with tears, but he still caught the strained smile John gave him.
“I'm going to help you up, alright? Just remember to breathe, it might hurt.” John tried to be reassuring and comfort him even with a gun pointed at his head, brushing stray hair from Simon's forehead, but Simon could see the anger and worry and fear he tried to hide and it terrified him.
John couldn't die. He was the best of the best, a Captain in the SAS – basically invulnerable. He couldn't die, and he shouldn't be scared. It was wrong.
Simon squeezed his eyes shut, biting his cheek to keep himself from screaming when John slid a hand behind his back and helped him to his feet. This time he couldn't stop the sobs. The pain was enough to make him falter, but John kept him upright as he pulled him further into the basement while once again placing himself between him and the gun like a protective barrier.
“You can't leave me,” Simon whispered, clinging to John's shirt with his good hand.
“Morris, what exactly is your plan here? Hurt me? Kill me?” John asked, the softness from moments ago replaced by the gruff voice he used on the job. “Then do it. You'll get your revenge, but leave my son out of this. He's never done anything to harm anyone and he doesn't deserve this.”
“No!” Simon gasped, barely audible.
John only pressed on. “It'll look worse on you if you're caught and it turns out you murdered an innocent child in cold blood just because his father happened to uncover your crimes.”
“Dad, no, you can't!” Simon cried. “I need you!”
“And who's to say the kid won't run straight to the police when we're done here?” Morris asked in return, and Simon's heart plummeted when he realised it meant he was considering what John's offer.
“Lock the basement door,” John responded without a pause.
Morris scoffed and made a wide arc with his arm to motion at the variety of tools and equipment spread around the room – a mess he and John still hadn't gotten around to organising after nearly a year of living in the house. “As if there won't be something in here that he can use to break through the door.”
“His arm broke in the fall. Even if he'll be able somehow break the lock, it'll take him a long time with one arm useless. You'll have plenty of time to run.”
The air in the room felt too thin. Simon shook his head, a frantic sound slipping past his lips when words failed him.
John couldn’t be serious. There had to be another way! Simon was done losing people, he didn’t think he could survive another loss – especially when that meant losing the person he felt the safest with, the man that had taken him in and given him a family he had never had, an actual dad.
“No!” Simon exclaimed. “No, you can’t do this! You can’t hurt my dad, I need him!”
He tried to step in front of John, shield him from the gun, but John wouldn’t let him and the ringing in Simon’s ears grew louder. He couldn’t watch John die.
“Time to say goodbye, Captain.”
“No, no, please don't—”
John shifted to look at him, somehow mustering a weak smile for him despite everything. “Cover your eyes, son.”
“No.” Simon shook his head, “ No, dad, he can't— I won't — Please!”
“Close your eyes, Simon. It'll be okay, he won't hurt you.” John soothed him, bringing one hand up to brush away the tears streaming down his face. “I love you, kiddo. So, so much.”
Simon sobbed and threw his arms around John even though the pain nearly caused him to black out. Incoherent pleas bubbled past his lips. John’s arms wrapped around him and the warmth of the hug only made Simon cry harder, but it was over far too soon with John urging him to let go and step away – keep him clear of the gun.
“No!” Simon screamed. He wasn’t going to let his dad sacrifice himself for him. With the last of his strength he pushed with his feet and twisted them around to place himself between John and the threat.
A gunshot rang out.
John jerked and his arms flew back around him, one hand cupping the back of Simon’s head protectively.
“Dad!” An anguished wail tore itself free from Simon’s throat, his mind already full of visions of blood and gore, a terrifyingly vacant look in his dad’s eyes. He clung to John, refusing to open his eyes and see the reality for himself.
Then, “Nik?”
John’s voice was breathless and yet so full of emotion, and Simon flinched so violently that his legs folded under him. Strong arms held him up, though, and Simon let out a heart-wrenching sob when he looked up and saw John still holding him – alive and well and breathing with no trace of blood anywhere. With no bullet holes.
“Dad?”
“It’s okay, son, you’re– we’re safe now. I’ve got you,” John hushed him, his own eyes wet with tears as he gently lowered them to the floor with Simon cradled in his arms.
“Threat neutralised. I’m going to restrain this… bastard before he wakes up,” another, but just as safe and familiar voice said. “And Kate, send an ambulance as well.”
“Nik?” Simon whispered at the same time as John went, “Kate?”
“Da, we’ll see you soon,” Nik said, still speaking to Kate, but then the stairs creaked under heavy footsteps. “Kate will be here soon with her people, they’ll take care of this fool. I’ll tie him up while he’s still out. Are you two okay?”
Simon didn’t understand. How was Nik here? Had he somehow known what was happening?
“Perfect timing, as always.” John cleared his throat. “We'll be alright, though Simon needs to see a doctor – he was pushed down the stairs.”
“I should've killed him,” Nik growled. “He's lucky the angle was bad – but if he wakes up and starts running his mouth before Kate gets here, I won't be held accountable for my actions.”
“He was going to shoot dad,” Simon said, his voice cracking with fresh tears welling in his eyes. “He–I thought…”
“Shh, I'm okay. He didn't get a shot out, Nik got him first,” John reassured him, placing a kiss on his temple. “I promise I'm not hurt.”
Simon sniffled and buried his face against John's shoulder while weakly grasping his shirt in his good hand. “He was gonna kill you! And you were going to let him!”
“What?” Nik asked sharply, but John ignored him.
“I know, kiddo. I'm so, so sorry it got this far and you were injured. It should've never happened.”
“You were going to leave me!” Simon cried out accusingly, the hurt inside him welling up again. He couldn't believe that John had nearly sacrificed himself without a fight. For him. “You– You can't do that, I need you!”
“I know, I know,” John said, and this time it was his voice that broke as he hugged him even tighter. “I'm sorry it got to that point, but I had to keep you safe. I love you so much, Simon, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to you because of me.”
“Promise me you'll never do that again!”
John's shoulders sagged with a sigh and he gently leaned back until he could look Simon in the eyes. “I promise, I'll try my best to make sure nothing like that happens ever again.”
It wasn't the answer Simon wanted, but he had a feeling it was the best he was going to get. Just like he wanted John healthy and safe, John wanted that for him, too. Simon's lips trembled as he tipped his head forward to rest it on John's chest, reassured by the calming rise and fall of it.
“I'll hold you to that.”
A muffled whimper slipped past Simon’s lips when he lowered himself to sit on the couch. His body was battered and bruised, his left arm immobilised against his chest with a sling to support his broken forearm and clavicle, and the stronger painkillers had yet to kick in.
“Let me help you with your shoes,” Nik said, crouching down in front of him to untie the laces. “John should be in soon, Kate just wanted to talk with him for a moment.”
Simon watched silently as Nik worked his shoes off and carelessly tossed them to the side. “He's not in any trouble, is he? Or you?”
“What?” Nik braced one hand against the couch and pushed, sliding into the seat next to Simon instead of standing up. He ruffled Simon's hair. “Njet, Simon, neither of us is in trouble – Kate will make sure of that. The only one in trouble here is the bastard that caused all this.”
“Promise?” Simon felt childish for asking, but mere hours ago he had thought he was going to watch John, his dad, die in front of him and he needed the extra reassurance.
“I promise.”
Nik opened his arms in invitation and Simon let himself feel the exhaustion of the evening as he tipped into the warm, secure hug that was careful to avoid any pressure on his injuries.
“You were so brave today, solnyshka. I'm proud of you,” Nik told him, placing a kiss in his hair.
“I'm really tired, Nik,” Simon mumbled. He could already feel his eyes grow heavy, the remnants of fear soothed by the strong and steady heartbeat in his ears as his head rested against Nik's chest.
“You can rest now, you're safe – you both are,” Nik reassured him, shifting momentarily to tug a fleece blanket from the back of the couch and wrap it around him. “How about you get comfortable and I'll try to find us a silly film to watch while we wait for your dad to come?”
Simon nodded. He had to stifle a yawn and moments later an unhappy noise when Nik guided him to lean against the cushions and what seemed to be a mountain of fluffy pillows – he hadn't known Nik even owned so many pillows – to embark on an adventure to find the TV remote.
Simon tracked him with his eyes, but they seemed to slide shut on their own accord before too long. It wasn’t sleep, or at least it was light enough that he still heard Nik move around and mutter something unflattering under his breath. It made him smile and sink a little deeper into the pillows – and hope that the remote wasn’t actually beneath them, because that’d require him to move, which was something he didn’t think he had the energy for.
He must have dozed off deeper because the next thing he became aware of was the sound of the front door closing with a click, followed by a soft murmur of words and approaching footsteps.
“Dad?” Simon mumbled, cracking his eyes open.
“Hey, kiddo.” John smiled softly as he came into view. “Kate left to go home, but she said she’d be back tomorrow with the guys. I think her wife will send some of her chocolate chip cookies with her.”
“Hug?” Simon held out his good hand and John seemed to melt as he sat down by Simon's legs and ever so carefully reached out to pull him into his arms with the blanket still wrapped around him.
“How're you doing?” John asked.
Simon shrugged with his uninjured shoulder. “‘m really tired. A little scared.”
“Scared?” John tensed momentarily as he looked at him with a frown. “Why are you scared? I promise that man won't ever be able to hurt us again.”
Simon shook his head, looking down at the blanket and picking at the edge of it. He didn't know how to put it into words, at least in a way that didn't make him sound childish, but he was scared. The whole incident had brought back the fears, the anxiety of losing people important to him again and he didn't know how to handle it.
“Is it… is it because of what I said back there? In the basement?”
The telly flickered on then, the volume already muted, and Nik pretended to surf through the channels to give them privacy.
Simon shrugged again, the words barely audible when he spoke, “I don't want you to leave me.”
“Oh, son,” John pressed a kiss to the top of his head before tucking his head under his chin. “I'll never leave if I can help it, I promise. I know tonight was frightening and I said things that scared you, but it's over now. It's over, and we're safe.”
“But you were going to give up!” Simon croaked, silently berating himself for the tears that welled in his eyes once more. He didn't want to cry. “I– you can't do that! You can't just give up! You should have fought. I needed you to fight!”
John flinched as though Simon had yelled instead of the words being slightly more than a whisper.
“I'm so sorry, Simon,” John said and there was something almost fragile about his voice. “It was a mistake and I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry you had to go through that.”
Simon squeezed his eyes shut, sniffling softly. There was a lot he wanted to say, but very little he could put into words with how exhausted he was. He thought it might have been enough right at that moment though – to be warm and safe and protected in John's arms.
“We're having a sleepover in the living room,” he said, changing the subject. He didn't want to be sad anymore. “Nik said he'd put on a film.”
“A sleepover, huh?” John huffed lightly. “I guess that explains all those pillows.”
Simon nodded. “I didn't even know he had so many pillows.”
“I can always take them back if you don't want them.” Nik looked at them and grinned when Simon pouted in response. “That's what I thought.”
“Don't worry, kiddo, he won't take your pillows. I have too many embarrassing stories to share about him for him to risk it,” John reassured him, the expression on his face lighter now, if also tired. “Should we get you settled down then? Make sure the pillows are of optimal fluffiness for a late night film?”
“You'll stay?” Simon asked.
“I'll stay,” John promised before shifting to help Simon lie back down, arranging the pillows to support his shoulder and arm with steady hands that spoke of past experience. “It's been a while since I've had a sleepover, I wouldn't want to miss this opportunity now would I?”
Simon smiled.
Whatever film Nik had chosen began to play in the background, but Simon found himself too tired to be interested in it. He blinked sleepily at John as he made some final adjustments to the blanket over him.
“Sleep well, kiddo.” John leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead, brushing aside stray bits of hair. “I'll be here when you wake up.”
“Love you,” Simon mumbled, his eyes already sliding shut.
“Love you, too.”
Simon relaxed into the softness and warmth of the couch, distantly aware of John taking a seat at his feet and a quiet murmur of words that followed.
“I think you have some explaining to do, Captain,” Nik said, but the rest was lost on Simon when sleep fully claimed him.